Ghosts of Rosewood Asylum

by Stephen Prosapio

  “Shhhhh,” Zach said to Ray.

  “Zach? Are you in there?”

  “What’s this, Grand Central Station all of a sudden?” Ray asked, loud enough for whoever it was outside to hear.

  “I’m a popular guy,” Zach said.

  Sara popped her head through the unzipped tent door and gave Ray a snotty look.

  “What’s up?” Zach asked.

  “Well, we’re about to get ready to start the investigations, aren’t we?”

  “I can’t relax for ten minutes?”

  “Sorry but before we start, I need to talk to you…” She glanced at Ray. “Outside?”

  Zach followed her out of the tent. “So? What’s up?”

  Her lips pursed slightly as they did when she knew she needed to say something delicately. “Well even before the little tiff in there,” she tilted her head toward the asylum, “Bryce requested that we even out the airtime a bit.”

  “You gotta be kidding me. Even out? Really? Did someone already edit the footage from today and not tell me?”

  “Zach.”

  “Did we have a stopwatch timing how long Patrizia’s tour lasted and compare it to how long Wendy’s introduction was?”

  “Za-aaack.”

  He hated when she said his name that way—it reminded him of how his dad pronounced it.

  “Fine, Sara. We’ve got three teams of investigators and two camera crews. While one team is in the asylum, another team can be checking out the administration building and stables, while a third team keeps an eye outside the front yard area. That third team won’t have an HD camera, but their night-vision portable and mini digital camera should be enough. If Bryce wants, he and Rico can take the first shift in the asylum. That’s probably the team that will get the most usable footage, right?”

  “Good idea,” she said.

  “Sara, don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  They were both silent a moment while Rico and Turk passed by and disappeared into Rosewood’s lobby.

  Zach still spoke in hushed tones. “Don’t pretend like this was my idea.”

  “Well it was!”

  “Okay, whatever.” He started back to his tent.

  “And Zach?”

  He stopped, but didn’t turn around.

  “Like we talked about, can you stop hanging around with Ray at least another twenty-four hours?”

  “What happened to your candles?” Zach asked.

  In lieu of candles, there were a few battery-powered lanterns dotting the asylum’s lobby.

  “I can’t get them to stay lit,” Angel replied.

  “Really?”

  “Si. I don’t know if it’s something supernatural or just a draft, but they tend to not stay lit very long. I just gave up.”

  “That’s interesting. We should run some tests on that later.” Zach said, inspecting the row of video displays. “Hey, why isn’t a camera covering the basement?”

  “You wanted one there?”

  “We’ve had a lot of activity downstairs. Why wouldn’t we?”

  “Because even before losing Camera 3, we were stretched as thin as possible by the thousands of feet of hallway?”

  “We need one down there,” Zach said. “Figure something out.”

  Matthew had been leaning on the railing of the main staircase eavesdropping. “We could take one from the hallway on the 2nd floor. Camera 8?” He pointed above the infirmary.

  “That one’s gotta cover room 217,” Angel said.

  “What about the one at the other end of the hallway?” Matthew asked.

  Angel turned to Zach. “What do you think, boss?”

  “That should work. Get it done ASAP. We’re going to start filming in five minutes.”

  Matthew circled up the lobby staircase. “I’ll have it done in three minutes!”

  Zach went outside and met up with the production crew and all the investigators.

  “Anybody ready to hunt some ghosts?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Armed with flashlights, a thermal cam, an EMF meter, a digital EVP recorder and accompanied by a cameraman, Zach and Rebecca stood at the doorway to Rosewood’s administration building. Splitting into three teams of two investigators made the most sense. That way, they’d be able to cover a good portion of the property all at once, and the different makeup of the teams, one male, one female, one mixed sex, would give spirits a choice of which team they felt comfortable interacting with.

  At 9:16 PM, Zach held the two-way radio to his mouth. “Everyone ready?”

  “Team One is ready,” Bryce’s voice transmitted back.

  “Team Two, ready,” Patrizia said.

  “Team Three, ready,” Zach broadcast to them.

  “Tech Team, ready.” Matthew had been given the honor of running the technical team’s walkie-talkie. Zach thought it a nice compromise that he utter the show’s line to commence their search. “XPI and Demon Hunters…investigate!”

  “Are you ready?” Zach asked Rebecca, already turning the doorknob.

  “As long as there’s not ants.”

  “What’s with you and ants, anyway?”

  “I’ll tell you when I know you better.”

  “When are you going to know me better?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Sometime when we’re off camera?”

  “Ah. Touché.”

  They crept through the foyer using their flashlights sparingly and keeping as quiet as possible. The cameraman followed, his lights off in favor of a night vision setting. When they reached the first office, Zach whispered to Rebecca. “Talk to them and try to capture some EVPs.”

  She nodded and clicked on the recording device.

  “Hello? Is anyone in here that would like to communicate with us?” She held the EVP recorder up and slowly moved it about her, hoping to pick up digital recordings that were indecipherable to the human ear. “We mean you no harm. We’d love it if you could show yourselves.”

  Save the sound of crickets chirping, all was silent.

  Zach prepared his EMF meter and held it away from the mini digital camera. He spoke. “If there is a spirit here, give us a sign of your presence.”

  Nothing.

  “Knock on something,” Rebecca said. “We want to know where you are.”

  In a room down the hallway there was a knock. They crept toward the sound’s origin.

  “If that was you,” Rebecca called out, “do it again, please?”

  “Who are you?” Zach asked. “Did you work here at Rosewood?”

  “Come closer to us. We won’t hurt you,” Rebecca said.

  Zach’s EMF reading flinched and then spiked. He nodded vigorously to Rebecca and motioned to her to repeat what she’d said.

  “We won’t hurt you. We promise.”

  There was a large bang in the foyer. It was as if someone had opened and slammed the door. When Zach and Rebecca investigated, no one was there.

  “Team Three, entering the old stables building,” Zach broadcast over the walkie-talkie.

  “Copy that,” Matthew sent back from the technical command post.

  An odd feeling washed over Zach as he and Rebecca continued to take EVPs and thermal cam readings throughout the old stables building. He was bored. Other than a slamming door, there had been no activity of note, and certainly no documentable scientific evidence. He’d waited his entire life to investigate this place with the expectation, perhaps unrealistic, that it would be an asylum of horrors, and at the moment, it was just another case. Despite being called “the stables,” with the wood stalls removed and any horse smells long disappeared, this could be just an ordinary warehouse. He attempted to distract himself with the historical implications of the building they were investigating. Built in 1892, it would have had a vital use to store and care for the primary mode of transportation at that time.

  Wendy had laughed at his ignorance when he’d asked how long it would have been in use during Rosewood’s operation. “You don’t kno
w much about history do you?” she had said over the phone. “Zach, how many cars do you think were in use back in 1903 when the hospital closed?”

  “I don’t know. I know the automobile was being produced in the late 1800s.”

  “Right. And the computer processor was being produced back in the 1950s but that doesn’t mean in the 60s every flower child had a laptop!”

  “Okay. I get it. So how many people were actually driving cars in 1900?”

  “At the turn of the century? Like less than one tenth of one percent of the people, Zach. I mean in 1901, Olds Motor Works was considered the mass producers of automobiles because it churned out about 400 cars.”

  Despite her quasi-inappropriate dating history, Zach had to concede that Wendy knew her actual history.

  “Did you hear that?” Rebecca asked.

  “Sorry,” Zach said. “I kicked something.”

  They both trained their flashlight beams in the direction of the noise. Zach’s spotlighted it first.

  A Coke bottle.

  Rebecca hurried over and picked it up. “Hey this isn’t one of those replica-retro bottles. This is an old school 1960s, 1970s? Maybe earlier.” The wonder in her voice resembled that of an archeologist having just discovered Atlantis.

  “Pick an era, any era,” Zach said. “Over the years, they tried to convert Rosewood into everything from a museum to a retirement community. I think it was seven times that they started, and then ended up halting rehab projects.”

  “Because…”

  “Something always scared them away.”

  In a loud voice, Zach addressed the spirits. “Is that what brings you out? Do you not like threats to your…home?”

  He waved his EVP recorder in the air hoping it would pick up a voice or a noise. Something.

  “Give us a sign that you’re here,” Rebecca said.

  “Is the orderly who was murdered in 1899 still here?” Zach called out.

  There was a moment of complete silence except for the discordant hum of crickets. Then, from the far back corner, a high-pitched moan could be heard. It sounded both forlorn and distant. Zach motioned for Rebecca to repeat her question as they crept toward where the noise had originated.

  “Hello? Was that you?” Rebecca asked. “Can you make that noise again? As a sign that it was you?”

  They were arriving at the back wall when they heard it again. This time, it was louder. The tingling sensation Zach had been feeling turned to disappointment. It was the unmistakable sound of a faraway, but quickly approaching, train horn.

  “The three most exciting sounds in the world: anchor chains, plane motors, and train whistles.”

  “What?” Zach asked with attitude into the phone.

  After the disappointing investigation at Rosewood’s outbuildings, he was in no mood for riddles. He and Rebecca were making their way toward the backside of the hospital near the old visitor’s room when Hunter Martin had called. Zach was filling him in on their investigation.

  “Anchor chains, plane motors, and train whistles,” Hunter Martin repeated. “Sorry. That’s an It’s a Wonderful Life quote.”

  “Some angel you are,” Zach said, imitating a grumpy George Bailey. “It wasn’t a welcome sound at the time. The train tracks run behind the industrial property that borders Rosewood to the south. Between that and the muffling of the thick walls, we’d have to discount any reports of moans.”

  “Well, there has to be some truth to the reputation of that place. I get a creepy feeling anytime I drive by it.” It sounded like Hunter was currently in his car. “So even though you say this Sashza has already done her psychic tour, you still want me there?”

  “Absolutely.” Zach was hoping that Hunter could provide clarity from Sashza’s readings. Without a clear understanding of why Rosewood was haunted, Zach would be forced to induce one of his episodes.

  “Hey, is there a coffee shop nearby there?” Hunter asked.

  The question was completely off topic, but Zach answered. “Yes, a Muses. Why?”

  “Muses?” Hunter’s voice had risen in pitch.

  “Yes.”

  “Does that place mean something to you?”

  “It might. Why?”

  “I’m not quite sure. I get the feeling you need to go there. Are you supposed to be meeting someone there?”

  “Interesting. Maybe I’ll tell you when you get here.” Zach hung up without saying goodbye like the way people did in the movies. Hunter would understand—he loved movies.

  Zach continued walking with Rebecca. They approached Rosewood’s back wall and looked out where the female quarters had once stood. Most of the homes were completely dark. The porch lamp on the house where Joey and his mom lived emitted an amber glow.

  “I think I should go and talk to those people,” Rebecca said.

  The comment caught Zach by surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “I need to…” Rebecca gazed at the houses as if transfixed. “Suicides are buried there. I need to go. Tomorrow.”

  “Sara and I talked to most of the residents earlier. None would allow—”

  “Is there a Mrs. Radcliff there?” She shuddered and then peered at Zach.

  Mrs. Radkey had been the woman who had admitted to having seen a shadowy figure in her house.

  “Mrs. Radkey?” Zach asked.

  Rebecca’s psychic abilities never ceased to surprise him. In the interest of his show, because she wasn’t that comfortable on camera, he may have been holding back her talent.

  “Yes.” Rebecca’s voice was calm and confident. “I need to talk to her. She knows more than she’s letting on.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. I may be able to convince her to let me investigate there. She may not allow cameras but…”

  She stared out at the homes a hundred yards away and slightly downhill from Rosewood. Her eyes were vacant, as though unfocused. “Which is hers?” she asked.

  “You tell me.”

  Rebecca closed her eyes and extended her arm. Her index finger pointed out to the dual rows of homes. It circled in the air a moment and then came to rest aimed at the building on the north side next to the vacant lot. She’d chosen the house across the street from the Foster residence—the home of Mrs. Elizabeth Radkey.

  The two-way radio flared static. They both flinched.

  Sara’s voice came across the transom. “Zach? Come in, Zach!”

  He put the radio to his mouth. “I’m here.”

  “Rosewood Psychiatric Hospital is ready for you and Rebecca.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Zachman!” Bryce bounded out of the front doors of Rosewood. “This place is ripe!”

  Rico tread out behind him looking stirred but not shaken. The cameraman and Sara followed behind. The lights from the HD camera made it difficult to see for a moment. Bryce dashed at Zach and stopped just a whisker away. He grabbed Zach by the shoulders and shook him with every syllable.

  “You are go-ing-to-be-a-mazed-in-there!”

  “Really? That’s awesome.”

  “We got some good shit. Didn’t we, Rico?”

  Rico’s eyes got wide and he nodded. “I’ve not seen anything like this since maybe that case we did back in Atchison, Kansas.”

  “We smelled peaches in room 217!” Bryce rose up on his toes and then dropped down flatfooted. His eyes were unusually active and his movements were quick—almost cat-like. Zach didn’t need the scent of Sailor Black nor his godfather’s voice to tell him that Bryce was on something.

  “Didn’t we Rico? Tell them.”

  Rico pursed his lips. He tilted his head to one side and then the other. He seemed unwilling to confirm but equally unwilling to object.

  “Dude, what’s it like out in the boonies?” Bryce asked.

  “We didn’t come up with all that much,” Zach said. “But once the spirits start getting activated, who knows what may happen?”

  “That’s right!” Bryce said. “Boo-yah! We’re
gonna wake these bitches up!” He strode off toward the administration building with so much bounce in his step that Zach imagined him to be a human version of Tigger. After bounding fifteen or twenty paces, he turned back. “Let’s go, Ricooo!”

  Rico hurried off to catch up. Zach watched them practically skip across the field of shin-high weeds before he turned back to Sara.

  “Have at it,” she said, following after Bryce and Rico with her cameraman in tow. The first-night plan was for Rebecca and Zach to cover floors two and three. This is it, Zach thought. The real investigation begins now. I’m finally fulfilling my dream of investigating Rosewood. They rushed through the technical command center and were headed up the lobby’s main staircase when Rebecca stopped. “Wait. What happened to the candles?”

  “Apparently, Angel couldn’t keep them lit.”

  She emitted a pensive, “Hmmmm.”

  “Hmmm, what?”

  “Something therein that doesn’t love a fire,” she said, parodying a Robert Frost poem. “Can we go to room 217?”

  Zach nodded, and they climbed up and around the lobby to the second floor. Wood floorboards creaked and groaned beneath their feet. The corridor, lined with one doorway after another, stretched on ahead of them. Some of the metal doors were closed, but most remained at least halfway open, as if daring Zach and Rebecca in. As they crept down the darkened hallway using their flashlights as sparingly as possible, Zach reminded Rebecca not to let the setting affect her mood.

  “The trick is to experience the place as if the building is a blank slate and not a creepy asylum.”

  “Easier said than done, but I hear you,” she said. “Still, this place doesn’t feel right. It’s…off—not as bad as the basement, but there is a lot of latent torment here.”

  “We knew there’d have to be residual effects, but we’re hoping for some evidence of an intelligent haunting.” Zach flicked on his flashlight as they approached room 217.

  “Say ‘hi’ to the boys,” Zach said, pointing his beam at the camera situated to monitor the room’s doorway.

  “Hi, boys.” Rebecca waved.

  “Hi back.” Matthew’s voice crackled on Zach’s walkie-talkie.

  Zach raised his index finger to his upper lip and made the shush motion to the camera. Once inside the room, they took thermal readings and performed a few EVP questions as they’d done in the administration and old stables buildings.